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| THE AFTERMATH: CHAPTER THIRTEEN |
"Freya, whatever it is that you want, it better be quick. We leave in a few hours." Kol informed his sister as both Rhea and himself joined the Mikaelson witch in the compound.
The two had spent the night in Rhea's apartment, consummating their marriage in every way possible. They were due to be leaving New Orleans in just a mere couple of hours, prepared not to come back for a while— if ever.
"You said you put the prophecy to rest, so what's the worry?" Kol asked further once seeing that Freya was working on spells.
"I didn't sleep last night. I just had this feeling of dread. I don't know if it's my own guilt," She shot Rhea a sympathetic look, "Or maybe, it's my intuition telling me that something is coming."
Freya still wasn't Rhea's favourite person in the world, but she too, had experienced something weird in the night.
"You're not the only one." Rhea spoke up from beside Kol, "Last night, I kept getting these strange visions.. yet they all ended the same," she gulped slightly before continuing, "None of us were here, at all. Every trace of us was gone."
Kol frowned upon seeing the distressed look on his loves face before turning back to Freya, "And what's this? Your early warning system?"
"This map is spelled to trace Niklaus' enemies. Let's just hope I'm being paranoid." Freya sighed as she started an incantation.
Both Kol and Rhea's eyes widened upon seeing the drops of blood on the map start to make their way to NOLA, from all over the world.
"I guess you're not being paranoid, when there is in fact, a hoard of killers on their way here."
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"Hey, just checking in with you, did you get back to Italy okay?" Rhea asked her brother from the outskirts of the courtyard.
"Of course," Ares replied, "You gonna tell me what's up?"
Rhea chuckled, "What do you mean?"
"Well for someone who got married yesterday, you don't sound too happy." Came his reply, he could always tell when something was wrong with his sister— no matter how far apart they were.
Rhea eyed the three Mikaelson brothers gathering weapons and quite literally, preparing for a fight.
"I'm fine, I promise. Just, don't come back to New Orleans anytime soon, okay? Promise me."
